


Commander

by hufflecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x21, Anal Sex, Canon verse, Coda, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub, Drabble, Ficlet, First Time, Kinda, M/M, PWP, Season 9, Semi-Public Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sub!Dean, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, s09e21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas/pseuds/hufflecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't usually follow orders, but Castiel isn't usually the one giving them.</p>
<p>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commander

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a request for some dom/sub Dean/Cas from [anastiel](anastiel.tumblr.com) on tumblr and my own desire to read about Dean getting fucked over a desk in Cas' angel command centre office.

When Cas tells Dean to put his hands on the desk and lean forward he doesn’t even have to raise his voice. Dean just obeys.

They're in Castiel's "office" at angel command headquarters, and the blinds are drawn. At first Dean doesn’t know what Cas has in mind but he catches on pretty quickly. It helps further his understanding of the situation when Cas slides his hand down between Dean’s ass cheeks, still over his jeans, and reaches between his thighs.

Dean doesn’t question it, either. He’s missed Cas, missed being around him. He’s missed the rushed glances and stolen touches, almost too casual to pay any attention to.

Castiel appears about ready to steal something else now.

Dean can feel Cas’ erection press into his ass, his breath hot and ghosting against the short hairs on Dean’s neck. He pushes back into Castiel, not trying to shake the angel off but instead trying to press as much of his body into the heat behind him as possible.

"Dean," Cas breathes, his voice heavy with lust, "do you want this?"

"Do you hear a whole lot of ‘No’ going on?"

Castiel shows his enthusiasm by mouthing at the base of Dean’s ear, sending sparks shooting down his spine. “I wish,” he starts, moving on to the base of Dean’s neck, “that we could take our time, but—”

"But you’ve got an entire army with angelic hearing on the other side of that glass?"

"Actually, I don’t care who or who does not hear us." Cas runs his hands down Dean’s sides and up his stomach, hands sliding under layers of shirts and jacket as he does so. "My concern is more one of time."

Dean widens his stance and adjusts his hips so he fits better against the angelic figure currently covering his back. “So tell me what to do.”

There’s a beat of silence and Dean is caught wondering if he’s said something wrong.

"I was hoping you would say that. Lower yourself onto your elbows."

Dean complies, his ass now prominently on display.

Castiel reaches down to his belt and deftly undoes both buckle and fly. He lets his fingers ghost along Dean’s erection but instead settles his attention to shoving Dean’s pants and shorts to around his knees in one motion. Dean lets out a frustrated grunt at the loss of contact on his dick.

"Shhh," Castiel soothes into Dean’s ear, "I’m going to take good care of you." He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a small bottle the likes of which Dean recognises all too well.

"Dude, you’re carrying lube? How the hell long have you been planning this?”

"I’ve learned it pays well to be prepared," Castiel says simply, popping open the cap and slicking up his fingers. 

"And where exactly did you learn that?" Dean asks, hoping he can use his smart-ass attitude to distract himself from the fact that he is about to get fucked over a desk.

"From more than just the pizza man, for one." Cas slides one wet finger between Dean’s cheeks and teases for only a moment before sliding it in.

Dean gasps and arches his back in surprise, instinctively trying to get comfortable around the intrusion. He’s only vaguely aware that his clenching and unclenching fists may have crumpled up some important documents sitting on this unfortunate desktop.

When Castiel slides his second finger in and begins scissoring his fingers gently, Dean has completely stopped caring about the cascade of papers, books, and ephemera he has suddenly sent crashing to the ground in his attempt to lower himself onto the surface of the desk completely. After what feels like both eternity and no time at all, Castiel withdraws his fingers from Dean’s ass and replaces them with his cock (Dean wonders how Cas managed to lube himself up without him noticing but to be fair there’s not a whole lot that Dean is prone to notice at the moment).

When Castiel begins fucking him earnestly it’s all Dean can do to grip the edges of the desk to keep himself from being shoved right over the top of it. His knuckles white from the effort to hang on under Cas’ merciless rhythm, Dean remembers his own dick, hard and leaking, sadly remaining largely untouched. Dean tests his positioning, trying to free an arm to touch himself to no avail. With Cas pounding into him he can’t get enough leverage to raise his chest off the desk.

Castiel must notice the effort because he snakes one hand over Dean’s hip down to his cock, and begins pumping in time to his own thrusts. It doesn’t take Dean long to come and Cas lets himself go at the same time, his last shuddering movements ending with him half-collapsed between Dean’s shoulder blades.

Mind numb from the events of the last few minutes, Dean is just able to compose himself enough to pull up his pants and marvel at the now sorry state of the office. 

"I think we fucked up your headquarters," Dean says with a huff, and then as an afterthought adds with a smirk, "Commander."

Castiel responds with a low growl that turns into a thoughtful hum. “Commander,” he muses, leaning in close to Dean. “You should have called me that when I was fucking you.”

Dean takes in his next breath sharply, whether from the weight of what has just happened or the risk of what he’s about to say next he doesn’t know. “How about next time?”

Castiel’s face clouds, and Dean can’t read him. Despite knowing each other for years nothing like this has ever happened before. Dean may have hoped and thought something could, but it hadn’t. Now they were at war and there was so much up in the air. This was a one-time thing, Dean’s sure of it. Just a fluke.

"I think," Castiel begins, and Dean’s stomach jumps at the impending rejection, "that next time sounds good."


End file.
